The Justified Path
by Sojourney
Summary: The construction of the Memory RPG is Ryou's path to freedom, and he will work toward it with his whole heart. Canon, one-shot.


**THE JUSTIFIED PATH**

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><p><em>Please,<em> Ryou spoke quietly from within his soul room, his soft voice issuing like a whisper between the doorjamb and the stone threshold. _My body needs sleep. You're pushing it too hard._

The spirit currently in control gave a dismissive "tch" and kept working, leaning over the board with one hand braced for balance on the edge of the diorama, gently settling another building of the constructed city into place. "Your body may be weak, Host," he said, his voice echoing against the workshop's walls until it barely sounded like his own. "But I know well its limits. I agreed to let you remain awake if you would not be troublesome or distracting."

_I'm not trying to being troublesome,_ the boy answered. _I'm just reminding you that a living person cannot exist only on willpower._

The thief blew out a breath of exasperation and was tempted to slam the soul room door shut, but he reigned in the impulse a moment later. As long as the boy was behaving himself and being properly respectful, there seemed to be little harm in letting him watch. "Come out," he said instead. "We've gotten a lot done tonight."

There was a spike of surprise, but the ghostly form appeared a few seconds later, hands clasped behind him and head lowered. Not even a few months ago, he would have protested the use of the plural noun; he hadn't wanted to be in any way involved in the spirit's plans and it was bad enough that his body - which he had begun to think of as a disconnected possession - was drafted into the thief's scheming. Yet despite the passive posture he now displayed, his resolve was stronger than ever. All the hardship and pain he had endured for the last five years was culminating to this last game.

"A Memory RPG," the spirit had explained a few months prior in a rare talkative mood. "To rewrite the events of the past as they should have been, with my victory. Without his name, the Pharaoh cannot win." Ryou couldn't fathom the enormity of having saved the world using only one's name, but he supposed if anyone could have done it, the enigmatic Other Yuugi was probably the one. It was the spirit's final words before falling quiet, however, that had convinced Ryou to help him. "It will be my last game, Host."

The next day, Ryou had voluntarily gone to the store to begin purchasing the things he would need to construct the massive diorama. Now, standing on the edge of the raised platform with his intangible sneakers passed just slightly through the wooden frame, he surveyed the meticulously built landscape. _It looks really good,_ he said, his voice containing nothing but a genuine acknowledgement of skill. _How many figurines still need painting?_

"Dozens," was the spirit's answer, punctuated with a weary shake of messy white hair out of his face.

_Do you want me to work on those while you rest for a bit?_

The thief gave his insubstantial counterpart a suspicious glance; the boy had been disconcertingly compliant lately. But he supposed that he could easily force him back out of control if the need arose. "Very well," he said, standing and stretching before yielding possession.

Ryou's specter vanished and a few seconds later, he blinked his own eyes cautiously. A sudden rush of small aches and pains assaulted him all at once and he winced, but resolutely sat down in the chair and pulled the tray of paints closer to him, picking up one of the handmade figurines. This one was a guard and he knew the colours he'd need, removing the lids from the pots of red and gold and brown.

_Don't forget their shentis,_ the spirit reminded him. _And the trim on their kilts was-_

"I know," Ryou answered, glad that his voice sounded like his own again. He flatly refused to believe that his vocals actually changed with his unwelcome tenant in control, and blamed it on the room's acoustics. "I can do this. You need to rest."

_I will not be coddled,_ was the growled reply, even though Ryou could feel him settling back into the recesses of his mind, in the same way one might feel a body settling into a couch or chair. He focused his attention on the figurine and began painting, taking care and patience on the tiny details. At first, he could feel the spirit watching through his eyes (how had he ignored and convinced himself for so long that the feeling was only his imagination?) but as the minute hand ticked its way around the clock he could feel that attentiveness slipping.

_Don't think you have me fooled, Host,_ the spirit said drowsily. _I know you're only helping so that you can be rid of me._

"Of course," Ryou said serenely. "You've often told me that the ends justify the means. You don't mind, right?"

The spirit finally let himself close his eyes. _I don't mind. Either way, you will be free of me. I give you my word, landlord._

The teenager dipped his paintbrush again, smiled, and kept working.


End file.
